Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
And damn it, I’m not a religious man these days, but I’m praying as I bend over her and press my lips to hers, and then begin pumping. “Come on, baby. Come on.” But nothing. “Fuck!”
There’s activity at the window, but I have no choice other than to tune it out, as every second lost could mean Layla never breathes again.
Breath, count the pumps, breath, count the pumps.
She gasps then, her lashes fluttering and then shutting again, and a rush of relief washes over me. Yes. Thank you, God, yes. It’s then, and only then, that the noise I’d heard at the window jolts back into my mind. My instincts kick back in, and I reach for my weapons.
“Don’t even think about it,” comes the growl from above.
I rotate in a squat to find myself staring up the barrel of a weapon held by Tad Bensen, the brawny bulldog, second-in-charge to Julian Rain. I’d known him well during our shared time at Groom Lake. I didn’t like him then, and I damn sure don’t like him now. “It’s not good to play with guns,” I say dryly. “You might get yourself shot.”
“Bravely spoken by the man without a gun,” he drawls. “Pick up the woman and carry her to the window. Hand her over to my man. Then, we’ll all head to Zodius City for debriefing.”
Translation—I’ll be tortured until I give up Renegade secrets. When donkeys fly.
Our eyes lock and hold. We both know there’s enough wind through the window to allow my escape, but taking Layla on that ride might kill her. Most likely will.
Tad jerks one of his weapons toward Layla. “My orders are to bring the woman back, dead or alive. Julian would rather have her alive, but either way works just fine by me.”
“Nothing like a man who knows how to please his man,” I say, taunting him and trying to keep the attention on me, not Layla.
It works better than expected. Tad growls, and without warning, shoots me in the fucking arm with Green Hornets, the only bullet that will penetrate my armor, and it damn sure rips through flesh and bone.
“Jensen!” she yells out.
“Get behind me,” I order, shifting my body to block hers, feeling her shift behind me, her hand closing over my wound to stop the bleeding.
Pain radiates from my arm to my damn teeth, but I’m not giving Tad the satisfaction of knowing it. “You should really work on self-control, Tad.”
“Take her to the window now, or I’ll unload a few more bullets in your chest and be done with you.”
“I’ll go,” Layla says quickly, and tries to move around me.
I catch her to me, blood gushing all over us both now, and I mouth, grab my gun, before eyeing Tad again. “I’ll carry her. She’s too weak to walk.”
With my eyes locked on Tad, I push to my feet, Layla rising with me, still behind me. I turn to scoop her up, offering her enough shelter to grab the weapon, which she hands off to me. I rotate, and I fire on Tad, planting a Green Hornet of my own in his belly. Layla grabs my second gun, but I scoop her up and head for the door, where I’m hoping the hallway will be clear.
We exit without delay, but by the time I’m on the stairs, Tad is shouting at me, firing at my back, and hitting my shoulder with at least two bullets. To my utter shock, Layla twists in my arms and leans over my shoulder, unloading her weapon on him, clearly trained to shoot, as she manages to halt the attack on us.
I reach the door and manage to grab the knob, using my foot to open it the rest of the way, and charge onto the porch. And thank fuck, Maddox is waiting on me. I am barely standing when I hand her over to him, all too aware that I’m in no physical position to protect her right now. I grab the doorframe, trying to hold myself up, dark spots filling my vision.
Blinking, I refocus, and to my horror, Maddox is nowhere to be found, but Layla is, and she’s in Tad’s arms. Maddox betrayed me. It can’t be. It just fucking can’t be. With a rush of adrenaline and a roar escaping my lips, I try to windwalk and fail. With frustration mixed with fear for Layla, I rush down the stairs, but a bullet rips through my knee, and I go down.
I’ve failed Layla yet again, is my last thought before the world goes black.
Chapter five
Layla
The man, my captor, strips me of my weapon, or I’d shoot him all over again. I don’t know how he’s standing. Jensen shot him in the house when we were in the bedroom, but all that matters right now is Jensen. He took too many bullets to survive without help.